


Whatever This Is

by misha_anon



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:15:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misha_anon/pseuds/misha_anon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever this thing Dean shares with Castiel is, it's the best thing that's ever happened to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whatever This Is

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is about midway between a headcanon and an actual story. Oops.

It isn't as though Castiel is the first person Dean has had sex with, and it isn't as though the sex isn't fantastic.  Cas learned quickly the things that make Dean's eyes roll back in his head and the things that nearly make him come all over the place in three seconds flat and, unencumbered by the usual human inhibitions, he's just as quick to give those things.  It isn't the sex that makes Castiel the best Dean's ever had, though; it's this.

It's the way Cas bites his lip, blue eyes wide with pleasure and lust and locked on Dean's as the latter sinks his cock in slowly, inch by excruciatingly slow inch.  It's the almost closed eyes still somehow holding Dean's gaze and lips parted on shivering breaths as Dean thrusts more gently than he's ever done before.  It's Castiel's eyes closed and his lips pressed to the roughstubbled curve of Dean's jaw to forcefully, physically stop the cry of pleasure when Dean manages to hit the sweet spot of his prostate.

It's the way Castiel's arms snake around the breadth of Dean's shoulders to pull him closer, no, closer still.  The way his legs mirror that hold around Dean's hips as he clings like he's afraid Dean will disappear if he doesn't hold on tight enough.  It's the way his breath is punched out by the tiny thrusts Dean can still barely manage when held so tight against Castiel's body he can hardly breathe, and the soft moans at the end of each punched out breath, worthy of a porn star and meant only for Dean's ears.

It's the way, when roles are reversed and Castiel is deep in Dean's ass, he forgets how to kiss and settles for pressing his lips lightly to Dean's and sharing the same hot breath back and forth while he tries to get his knees under himself, tries to coordinate his whole body to thrust.  It's the way he fails miserably and in lieu of any sort of rhythm, he thrusts erratically like it's his first time, every time, and it's all he can do to remember to breathe long enough to keep from passing out from lack of oxygen.

It's the tenderness of a palm pressed to the side of Dean's neck with a thumb scraping against his stubbled cheek when Castiel buries himself and stops moving, overcome by the pleasure he finds in the tight heat of Dean's ass.  It's the sincerity in those inky-black-ringed-with-blue-eyes when Dean finally opens his own eyes to look, knowing Castiel will be watching him like he's a gift God wrapped personally.  It's the fact that he'd tease anyone else about forgetting how to fuck, but he'd lie under an unmoving Castiel for days if it came to that.

It's the way a shiver of pleasure slides down Dean's spine, tingling all the way to his curled toes when Castiel finally finds the willpower to move and manages to set up a steady rhythm.  It's the dirty heat that curls in the pit of Dean's stomach when Castiel's palms slide under his shoulder blades, fingers curling around the tops of his shoulders to hold Dean in place for a proper fucking, just the way Dean likes it.  It's the way Dean's name sounds like a prayer whispered against his neck over and over, desperate and frantic, "Dean, Dean, Dean, _Dean_ " when Castiel is nearing the point of no return.

It's the way Castiel's lips invariably, unerringly find Dean's as his cock stiffens and he's pushed over the edge, regardless of whether he's coming in Dean's ass or Dean is coming in his.  It's that connection, eyes wide and breath huffed and not-at-all stifled whimpers of pleasure and then Castiel's hands framing Dean's face as kiss after tender kiss falls in the midst of their post-orgasmic haze.

Dean's had plenty of sex, but it never touched the place deep down inside him that this thing he shares with Castiel does.  _This_ is everything Dean's ever wanted, everything he was always afraid to hope for, everything that terrifies him more deeply than any monster.  _This_ is the way Castiel sleeps soundly curled in his arms, snoring against the side of his neck and drooling on his chest.  _This_ is sleepy kisses between grumbled desires for coffee first thing in the morning.  _This_ is knowing Castiel will be waiting for him every night even if they're both too tired to get hard.

 _This_ is what Dean has waited his whole life for, and _this_ is what he has no intention of ever giving up. 


End file.
